A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 2

and left in a place of eternal darkness. And every curious spirit that had heard her weeping, that had drawn close in sympathy – well, they had fed her hungers, and she had taken their powers. Layer upon layer. For they too had been foolish and stupid, wayward and inclined to squander those powers on meaningless things. But she had a purpose.
    The children swarmed the surface of the world. And who was their mother? None other than the bitch who had been banished.
    And their father?
    Oh yes, she went to him. On that last night. She did. He reeked of her when they dragged him into the light the following morning. Reeked of her. The truth was there in his eyes.
    A look she would – could – never forget.
    Vengeance was a beast long straining at its chains. Vengeance was all she had ever wanted.
    Vengeance was about to be unleashed.
    And even Raraku could not stop it. The children would die.
    The children will die. I will cleanse the world of their beget, the proud-eyed vermin born, one and all, of that single mother. Of course she could not join the Ritual. A new world waited within her.
    And now, at last, I shall rise again. Clothed in the flesh of one such child, I shall kill that world.
    She could see the path opening, the way ahead clear and inviting. A tunnel walled in spinning, writhing shadows.
    It would be good to walk again.
    To feel warm flesh and the heat of blood.
    To taste water. Food.
    To breathe.
    To kill.
     
    Unmindful and unhearing, Sha'ik made her way down the slope. The basin awaited her, that field of battle. She saw Malazan scouts on the ridge opposite, one riding back to the encampment, the others simply watching.
    It was understood, then. As she had known it would be.
    Vague, distant shouts behind her. She smiled. Of course, in the end, it is the two warriors who first found me. I was foolish to have doubted them. And I know, either one would stand in my stead.
    But they cannot.
    This fight belongs to me. And the goddess.
     
    'Enter.'
    Captain Keneb paused for a moment, seeking to collect himself, then he strode into the command tent.
    She was donning her armour. A mundane task that would have been easier with a servant at hand, but that, of course, was not Tavore's way.
    Although, perhaps, that was not quite the truth. 'Adjunct.'
    'What is it, Captain?'
    'I have just come from the Fist's tent. A cutter and a healer were summoned at once, but it was far too late. Adjunct Tavore, Gamet died last night. A blood vessel burst in his brain – the cutter believes it was a clot, and that it was born the night he was thrown from his horse. I am . . . sorry.'
    A pallor had come to her drawn, plain face. He saw her hand reach down to steady herself against the table edge. 'Dead?'
    'In his sleep.'
    She turned away, stared down at the accoutrements littering the table. 'Thank you, Captain. Leave me now, and have T'amber—'
    There was a commotion outside, then a Wickan youth pushed in. 'Adjunct! Sha'ik has walked down into the basin! She challenges you!'
    After a long moment, Tavore nodded. 'Very well. Belay that last order, Captain. You both may go.' She turned to resume strapping on her armour.
    Keneb gestured the youth ahead and they strode from the tent.
    Outside, the captain hesitated. It's what Gamet would do . . . isn't it?
    'Will she fight her?' the Wickan asked.
    He glanced over. 'She will. Return to Temul, lad. Either way, we have a battle ahead of us this day.' He watched the young warrior hurry off.
    Then swung to face the modest tent situated twenty paces to his left. There were no guards stationed before its flap. Keneb halted before the entrance. 'Lady T'amber, are you within?'
    A figure emerged. Dressed in hard leathers – light armour, Keneb realized with a start – and a longsword strapped to her hip. 'Does the Adjunct wish to begin her morning practice?'
    Keneb met those calm eyes, the colour of which gave the woman her name. They seemed depthless. He mentally shook himself. 'Gamet died last night. I have just informed the Adjunct.'
    The woman's gaze flicked towards the command tent. 'I see.'
    'And in the basin between the two armies, Sha'ik now stands ... waiting. It occurred to me, Lady, that the Adjunct might appreciate some help with her armour.'
    To his surprise she turned back to her tent. 'Not this morning, Captain. I understand your motives ... but no. Not this morning. Good day, sir.'
    Then she was gone.
    Keneb stood motionless in surprise. All right, then, so I do not